The Reality of Plans
by lilbluedancer
Summary: By the time Lydia realizes she's in love with Stiles, he's moved on. Lydia makes a plan.
1. Chapter 1

By the time Lydia realizes she's in love with Stiles, he's moved on.

Lydia doesn't understand how this happened. She's a certified genius. She's going to win awards and medals one day; she's going to rule armies.

But somehow she's stupid enough to fall in love with Stiles only now, when he's dating Malia and for the first time in their lives, unavailable. It's not her fault, Lydia knows. It's not Malia's fault that Lydia took Stiles for granted, that she let his love for her be something she could ignore or manipulate for her own amusement.

The thing is, it's not really about Malia at all. It's about anchors, and open doors. Stiles telling her she was beautiful even when she cried, Stiles yelling _run_! 

It's about a monster wearing Stile's face pushing her up against a damp dank wall, and Peter fucking Hale. And Allison of course, although these days Lydia can make anything about Alison if she tries hard enough.

So it's not Malia's fault she took something that belongs to Lydia. But that doesn't mean Lydia's going to sit back and let Malia have him.

It's not like Lydia's trying to hurt her. It's more like she's collateral damage, something that will be regrettably but unavoidably damaged in the wake of Lydia's whim.

Lydia tries not to feel the slow creep of guilt. Malia's not so bad, even if her 'I'm just an innocent bumbling were-coyote' act is wearing a little thin. Her honestly, while sometimes borderline offensive, is refreshing, and it's not like she's ever done something to Lydia personally.

Until Lydia sees Stiles and Malia walking hand in hand, and something inside her snaps like one of his red threads. The pieces inside her pull apart and it _hurts_. If she were Scott McCall she'd be wolfing out, flashing red eyes and howling at the moon.

But she's not a wolf; she's a banshee. She has one foot firmly planted in the realm of death. But she's always had Stiles, tethering her to Earth, to Beacon Hills. Tethering her to him.

She wants him. And Lydia always gets what she wants.

Because Lydia is friends with Stiles (oh who is she kidding, best friends, her only friend really, other than Scott, and god, how weird is _that_?) and they are the brains of pack McCall, she does what they do best.

She comes up with a plan.

The first step is almost embarrassingly easy. Remind Stiles what he's missing.

xxx

Stiles picks her up on Friday nights for pack meetings at Derek's. There's not really a point to it, with Kate Argent gone (again) and Peter Hale locked up. For the first time since Scott was bitten Beacon Hills seems devoid of supernatural activity, making the town feel erie and quiet.

They still meet every week, but it's more of a formality now, a chance to check in before they inevitably order pizza and watch a movie. It's not the same as it was in the beginning of it all, of course. She doesn't look for Alison's face anymore when she walks in the door, remembers not to expect Isaac or even Erica.

But there's Kira, who will never ever be a replacement for Alison, but is becoming (what Lydia can begrudgingly admit) a close friend. She's a little awkward but she's nice, and loyal to the pack. And unlike certain new girls isn't sleeping with Stiles Stilinski.

There's Liam too, who's quickly becoming everyone's annoying little brother. But he's strong, and he's _Scott's_. Lydia's wondered once or twice (on the rare occasion she's allowed herself to feel self-pity) what it would have been like if it had been him who'd done this to her.

She's imagined gentle Scott McCall baring his teeth to her flesh, telling her not to be afraid, as she gently strokes the puckered scar along her side.

Of course, it didn't happen that way, and Lydia doesn't have time to indulge in daydreams anymore.

They're like family, now. They all bicker and support each other and every Friday night they get take out delivered to Derek's loft and watch a movie.

There's something extremely amusing about watching Derek Hale survey the group of them sprawled out on his living room floor with a bewildered look on his face, like he has no idea how he became the de facto guardian to a bunch of misfit teenagers.

When Stiles comes to get her she's not ready, on purpose. She's left the door open for him, and when she hears him in the foyer, calling her name, she yells for him to come on up.

He enters her bedroom and says, "Oh," because she's sitting at her vanity in a purple skirt and a lacy black balconette bra that gives her excellent cleavage.

"You're not ready," he says dumbly.

"Wow, what a deduction," she says flatly. She has to admit, she was expecting a little more fumbling, more staring. But Stiles just nods mildly and sits down on the edge of her bed.

Lydia pins her braids around her head like a fiery crown. She takes her time getting ready, pretending not to know what top to wear.

"What do you think?" she asks him, holding up two shirts, and she almost laughs at her own absurdity. Like she would ever ask Stiles for fashion advice.

She feels a stab of satisfaction when he frowns and grumbles, "Its just Derek's."

Ha. Good. Let him think she's into Derek. Jealously will work just fine.

xxx

Malia is conspicuously missing from the pack meeting. It's strange, because Malia is always there. It's not like the girl has anything better to do, other than catch up on homework. Lydia snorts to herself. If it wasn't for her own generosity and talent for note taking Malia would probably be in special Ed right now.

When Lydia asks where Malia is there's a moment of silence. When someone answers her it's not Stiles, but Derek.

"She'll be back in a couple weeks," he says, shooting Stiles a look Lydia can't interpret.

"But where did she go?" Lydia presses.

"She's looking for the desert wolf," Stiles says quietly.

"By herself?"

"It's Malia," Scott reasons. "She didn't need any of us to go with her. She's used to doing things on her own."

"Yup," Stiles adds, but there's an edge to his voice that Lydia files away for later.

When Stiles drives her home that night she kisses him on the cheek and lingers, just enough to feel the little shudder that runs through him.

She smiles wickedly to herself all the way up to her room.

Phase one complete. 


	2. Chapter 2

**A****/****N: I don't own anything. I promise this will be a Stydia fic. Hang in there!  
**

Lydia calls Parrish on Monday morning and tells him she needs him to pick her up.

"I wouldn't say that this constitutes an emergency," he says wryly when he pulls up in front of the school.

"That depends on your definition of an emergency," Lydia says tartly.

"I have to go to work. Go learn something," he says, and leans forward to brush her hair back. "You be a good girl, alright?"

Lydia smirks. "What would be the fun in that?" She turns her head and gives him a gentle kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for the ride."

She gets out of the car and walks right by Scott and Stiles, who stare at her with twin looks of irritation on their faces.

Scott catches up with her in the hallway, stomping towards her with a determined look on his face.

"What do you want, McCall?" she sighs, tapping her foot.

He frowns at her. "What are you doing?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Really, Lydia? Parish?"

"He's my friend," Lydia defends.

"No, _I'm_ your friend. _Stiles _is your friend."

"Why do you guys care if I'm hanging out with Jordan?" she snaps. She wanted to make Stiles jealous; she did not want Scott McCall's snout all in her business.

"He's a grown up. It's _gross_."

"He's not that old."

"Lydia."

"Look, if you see another available guy who understands what kind of fucked up shit I'm dealing with, do tell," she hisses, and watches Scott flinch.

"Just because Stiles is seeing Malia doesn't mean he stopped caring about you."

"This isn't about Stiles," she says, and freezes.

She just lied. To _Scott_. Who gives her a little smirk that makes her blush and look down at her shoes.

"Come on,"' Scott says gently, fingertips on her wrist. "We're going to be late for class."

xxx

Beacon Hills wins their game on Friday night and everyone goes to the after party. It's at a sophomore's house and it's huge, all glass, with a large backyard.

She catches a ride with Kira, who nervously asked Lydia if she wanted to go together. Lydia managed a smile and said yes, and Kira gave her a bright smile back.

_Smile, Lydia.  
_  
She hears it so quickly she's sure she imagined it.

They find the guys in the kitchen with most of the team. Scott and Liam seem pretty coherent but Stiles look drunk; his eyes are unfocused and he has a goofy grin on his face.

"The ladies have arrived!" he shouts, beaming at them. "Lydia! Lydia, c'mere. I got you a present."

He shoves a bottle of vodka and a glass at her.

"Thank you." She gives him a smug smile and he kisses her cheek.

"You look really pretty," he tells her, and she sees Scott roll his eyes behind him.

"Stiles, how drunk on you?" Lydia asks suspiciously.

"I'm drinking for Scott, too. And Liam. 'Cus, you know, they're _werewolves_," he stage whispers.

"Yes Stiles, I know," Lydia says, knocking back a shot.

"You could drink for Kira," Stiles suggests.

"Stiles Stilinski, are you trying to get me drunk?"

Stiles smiles, but it's a little sad. "Nah. Just miss you." He reaches out and wraps his finger around the strand of her hair. "Miss having fun together."

"Yeah, me too," she says quietly, and quickly does another shot.

She ends up with a group of seniors on the back deck for a while with Kira, playing a long game of never have I ever. It's not that fun, because only Lydia and Kira have done things like slay the Oni and berserkers and assassins. By comparison having sex in your parents' bed is really not that interesting.

Not that Lydia wouldn't do it, but she doesn't have much time for that, what with things like cracking deadpools and sneaking off to Mexico to rescue Derek's ass.

It just makes her bitter, that all these people are having the best years of their lives, and Jackson is gone, Alison is gone, and Stiles is screwing Malia.

She gets drunk. She gets drunk and wanders around, looking for Stiles.

She finds him in the backyard, out by the tree line.

"Lydia?"

"The one and only." She smiles coyly at him.

"Hey, Lyd," he slurs, "where'd you go?"

"I got drunk with Kira." Lydia reaches up and locks her arms around his neck. "Really drunk."

"Scott had seven beers and he's stone cold sober."

"Sucks for Scott."

"So I drank...I got drunk for him. You know, in his honor."

"I didn't have a reason," Lydia confesses.

He laughs, pats her awkwardly. "I'm sure we could come up with one."

"Banshees," Lydia suggests.

"Berserkers."

"Kate Argent."

"The deadpool."

Lydia raises her chin. "Peter Hale."

"Fuck that asshole," Stiles says vehemently.

Lydia licks her lips. "Anchors." She says it like a dare.

Something flits across his face. "Tethers."

"Stiles," she whispers. His face is so close to his, she can count every mole on his face.

"Lydia, please, don't."

Their lips are so close together she can feel his breathe on her skin. His eyes are screwed tight, tension in his forehead.

"Don't you want this, Stiles? Don't you want me?" she asks, petting his face, pushing herself up against him.

Stiles groans loudly. "You're not being nice."

"I want to play," she says, into the shell of his ear. "You miss this, right? Just the two of us."

"You're cheating."

She can feel him hard against her and Lydia smiles. "Since when do we follow the rules?"

"Lydia, c'mon. You're just drunk. You don't mean it."

"Sure feels like you mean it," she snarls.

"That's not fair. You know...you know what you do to me."

"Stiles," she says, smiling wolfishly. "What do I do to you?"

"You drive me fucking crazy, Lydia," Stiles growls.

"Stiles." She's being mean; she _is_ cheating. Lydia knows and she doesn't care. She takes what she wants, she always has.

Lydia kisses him. Stiles's lips are soft and taste faintly like beer. She can hear him groan softly before he pulls away, detangling them and pushing her away.

"Stiles-"

"Don't,"' he says, and he sounds angry.

"Stiles!"

"I just cheated on my fucking girlfriend, Lydia."

"Your _girlfriend_?"

"What did you think she was?" Stiles yells. "Someone I was using until you finally realized I existed?"

"Stiles, come on."

"No, you come on! You prance around all week, flirting with Parrish, and then you kiss me, when you know I'm with Malia! What the hell is wrong with you, Lydia?"

"Stiles, I love you!" she blurts out.

Stiles laughs, and it's low and dry and _scary_. "You know what? Screw you, Lydia."

"What-"

"You're unbelievable, you know that? I can't believe you would try to manipulate me like that. That's low; even for you." He's not even looking at her, he's walking right by her.

"Stiles, wait, please!"

He doesn't wait.

Lydia lets out a shaky little gasp. What. The actual. Fuck.

She stumbles through the yard, pushing through trees. She just wants to go home, get out of her dress and call Allison-

_Allison.  
_  
Something deep in Lydia's chest bursts, some pressure that's been building for months. She cries out and suddenly she's bawling.

She gasps, trying to get through the crowd of people, and leans down to yank off her heels.

"Lydia?"

Liam is standing in front of her, staring. She sucks in a breath and tries to says something but all that comes out is a strangled sob.

"Lydia, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

She can't stop crying. It's horrible, humiliating, but she can't stop. It's like a dam has broken and she's not strong enough to hold back the flood.

"Should I get Stiles?" Liam offers uncertainly.

"No! I'm fine," Lydia sobs.

Liam pauses and tilts his head. "Hold on, I think I hear Scott."

Sure enough a moment late Scott bursts through a crowd of people and runs towards them.

"I heard you crying," he says breathlessly. "Lydia, what happened?"

She shakes her head, arms crossed over her stomach.

"Are you hurt?" Scott holds her by her shoulders, examining her, sniffing her for blood.

"Lydia, Lydia, look at me." His voice is clear and calm and somehow she manages to tilt her head up.

"Hey," Scott says, giving her soft concerned eyes. "Talk to me."

"I want to go home," she sobs. "Please, take me home."

"Of course," Scott says immediately, and wraps strong arms around her. "Come one, I got you."

xxx

"Are you going to be okay?" Scott asks her, when he's parked outside her house and she's no longer crying.

"I forgot," Lydia says dully.

"What?"

"I forget she was dead. I was going to call her, and then I remembered that I couldn't, because she was dead."

Scott exhales quietly. "You were drunk. It happens."

"You thinks it's normal to forget that my best friend is dead?" she asks sharply.

"I think nothing about our lives are normal. You've been through a lot. I wouldn't be hard on yourself."

"You're one to talk," Lydia comments.

Scott shrugs. "You're my pack. I'm responsible for you."

"Simple as that?" she asks lightly, but Scott fixes her with a serious stare.

"Yes. Always."

"It's not fair." There's a weary edge to her voice. "We're just kids."

"I don't feel like a kid."

"Yeah," Lydia sighs. "Me either. 


	3. Chapter 3

Lydia wallows all week. She finally got up the balls to tell stupid Stiles Stilinski that she's in love with him and he walked away from her. She's earned the right to wallow.

She skips the next pack meeting. Stiles doesn't pick her up and she doesn't call him.

Lydia really isn't all that surprised when Scott shows up in her room later that night. She's curled up in her bed watching The Notebook for the millionth time when he strolls through the door.

"Your mom let me in," he says, as if that's a decent explanation for being in her room at eleven o'clock on a Friday night. She's not even wearing _makeup_.

_Oh the horror_, she can imagine Allison saying with a roll of her eyes.

Scott eases onto the edge of the bed and wrinkles his nose. "It reeks in here."

Lydia glares. "Do we need to have another conversation about keeping our noses to ourselves?"

"Sorry," Scott apologizes, and leans closer to pat her arm. "You smell sad, is all."

"Oh. Well." What is she supposed to say to _that_? It's so disarming, that her talent for duplicity is wasted on Scott McCall.

"Lydia, why didn't you tell me?"

"It wouldn't have made a difference," she says tightly, and turns up the volume, just to watch him wince.

Scott, so irritatingly undeterred, pulls the remote out of her hand and mutes the movie. "I know Stiles is my best friend, but you're my friend too. You can tell me stuff."

"I know, Scott."

"I think he's going to break up with Malia."

Lydia's head snaps up. "Really? Why?"

Scott rolls his eyes. "Gee, I don't know. Might have something do with you kissing him. And that thing you said."

Of course Stiles told Scott. _Duh_. They're best friends.

Lydia yanks the remote back. "You know what he did when I told him, right?"

"I think you just threw him for a loop."

"Sure," Lydia snorts. "That's it."

"So you are mad."

Lydia looks at him incredulously. "If you're just here to spy for Stiles you can get the hell out of my room."

"Hey, no. Just damage control."

"Well, you can tell Stiles that I'm fine. That I absolutely do not give a shit if he breaks up with Malia, and if I hadn't been so drunk, which was his fault by the way, I wouldn't have said anything."

"Do you forget that I can tell when you're lying or do you just not care?"

"Hmm," Lydia says. "I wonder."

Scott shakes his head. "So how do we fix it?"

"Just let it go, McCall. Obviously Stiles has a little coyote problem to deal with."

"Come on, Lydia. He's been in love with you forever. How was he supposed to know you'd finally realize how you felt once he wasn't available?"

Lydia leans her head back on her pillow. "It wasn't like that."

She hears Scott kick off his shoes and a second later his dark head is next to hers on the pillow. 

"What was it like?" he asks gently.

Lydia bites her lip. She thinks of Stiles' head submerging in a tub of icy water. Stiles on the floor of the locker room, gasping for air. His goofy smile, a red string in his fingertips.

"It's like Peter," she finally says, watching a murderous look cross Scott's face as she says his name.

"I don't understand," Scott says. "You're not comparing Stiles to-"

"Of course not," Lydia scoffs. "I'm trying to explain how it feels."

"Oh." Scott nods thoughtfully. "How does it feel?"

Lydia exhales, tries to articulate this one thing. Tries not to imagine Stile's face if he was hearing this, how he would react to being compared to Peter Hale in any capacity.

"By the time I realized he'd changed me," Lydia says finally, "it was too late to do anything about it."

xxx

She runs into Stiles on the lacrosse field.

When it happens she has to bite back a hysterical giggle at the irony.

"I see the universe continues to mock us," Stiles comments, giving her a wry smile.

"Maybe we have bad karma," Lydia says.

Stiles laughs and shakes his head. "I wouldn't be that surprised."

"What do you do about that, you think?" she asks.

Stiles shrugs. "Good deeds, probably. Hell, I don't know. Penance isn't exactly the same thing."

"Stiles," she says softly.

He steps closer, takes one of her hands in his loosely. "How are you?"

Lydia blinks, brushes her hair out of her eyes. "Okay."

"I broke up with Malia," he says.

When he says it he catches her by surprise. She wasn't expecting him to actually break up with Malia just because she kissed him. Stiles isn't like that.

"Because of me?"

Stiles squints against the sun. "Because of a lot of things."

"Are you okay?"

He chuckles bitterly. "Let's just say it's a good thing Malia's out of town right now."

"I'm sorry." She really is, too. She wouldn't want an angry Malia after her either.

"Lydia?"

"Yeah?"

His fingers tighten slightly on her wrist. "Did you mean it?"

She looks down at the ground. "Yeah, Stiles. I meant it."

A firm hand slowly tilts Lydia's chin up. "Lydia..._why_? _How_?"

"Well that wasn't how I pictured saying it!" She says defensively. "And if I knew how you were going to react I would never have told you!"

"Hey, no, it's not like I didn't want you to say it."

Lydia glowers. "You could have fooled me."

Stiles sighs heavily, his fingers still on her wrist. "It's just...are you sure?"

"Yes," she says firmly, because she's Lydia Martin, and she's always sure.

Stiles turns her by the wrist, spinning her with his hand until she's up against his chest.

"Stiles?"

"Missed you," he says roughly, into her hair. "Missed you so much."

"Mm," Lydia agrees, warmth blooming in her chest. "You have any ice cream yet?"

"Huh?"

"You just went through a breakup. You're supposed to eat ice cream."

"Oh." Stiles considers this. "You want to get some with me?"

Lydia beams. "I'd love to." 


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: So a bit of a plot snuck up on me. What can you do? This is definitely becoming a Scott/Lydia friendship fic but please stick around for Stydia coming up in the next chapter.**

Lydia floats on a cloud of elation all week. She and Stiles make out in his jeep, in the storage closet at school, in the lobby of Derek's building (once, until he catches them and chews them out for making his lobby stink of arousal, which makes Lydia flush bright red and Stiles practically choke on his tongue).

So when she runs into Scott on the bleachers after school and notices his pathetic mopey face she takes pity on him. Her personal joy at getting together with Stiles (_finally_) makes her feel generous.

"Hey, Lydia," Scott greets her, sounding as morose as he looks.

"What's wrong with you?" she asks, sitting down next to him and shivering when her bare legs hit the cool metal.

Scott pulls off his jacket and spreads it over her legs. "Nothing."

"You're moping."

"Kira and I got into a fight."

"Seriously? What could you two possibly fight about?" It's hard for her to imagine gently Scott and shy, sweet Kira fighting about anything.

"Allison." Scott frowns and rakes a hand through his dark hair. "Kira says she feels like it's too much pressure."

"What do you mean?"

"Ali's kind of a lot to live up to. I guess Kira thinks I'm like, still in love with her or something."

"Are you?"

Scott scowls. "She's dead, Lydia."

Lydia scoots closer to him. "It doesn't mean you can't still love her."

"Yeah. I know." Scott sighs and looks out at the field. "It's just...there was no closure or anything. I know we were broken up when she...you know. But I feel like I'm replacing her. Like I'm not being fair to her."

"Scott," Lydia says. "What are you going to do, be alone forever?"

"Maybe I deserve to be alone."

"Don't be stupid."

"It's not fair to Kira. She deserves better than this."

"So you need time. That's okay."

"How much time is it going to take?" There's an edge in Scott's voice Lydia didn't hear before. "I can't string Kira along forever waiting to get over Allison."

Lydia nods. Alison Argent isn't the kind of girl a person just gets over.

"But you like Kira, right?"

"Yeah, I like her. She's nice and she's been patient, and she's, you know."

"Like you?" Lydia prompts.

"Yeah."

"And she's pretty." Lydia bumps shoulders with him.

"She's pretty," Scott agrees. "But when I'm with her sometimes I feel like...I don't know. Like I'm dishonoring Allison somehow."

"She wouldn't want you to be alone, Scott. She'd want you to be happy."

Scott half nods, unconvinced.

"Come on," Lydia says, jumping up and handing him his jacket.

"Where are we going?"

"To talk to Allison."

xxx

Allison Argent's final resting place is sunny and green, a smooth lawn dotted with headstones. Lydia gives Scott some time alone and wanders the headstones. If she places her hand on a stone and listens carefully sometimes she can get a faint whisper for a second or two.

"Let me know when you're ready to go," Lydia says to the air, fingering a blade of grass in front a child's grave.

A minute later Scott pops up next to her. "I'm ready now."

Lydia grins. The super-hearing thing is _so _convenient. "Better?"

Scott nods and rubs his slightly bloodshot eyes. "Yeah."

"Good. Now let's go, this place gives me the creeps."

"Hey Lydia?" Scott asks, trudging through the grass to the car. "You don't ever like...hear her, do you?"

"No," Lydia says gently.

Scott nods absentmindedly. "Just wondering."

They're almost to the street when Scott freezes and yanks on Lydia's wrist, pulling her close. "Hold on, I hear something."

Scott sniffs at the air. "Someone's here."

"I don't see anyone. Are your spidey senses tingling?" Lydia hisses.

"I'm afraid your friend merely has excellent hearing." The man appears from out of nowhere and Lydia squeaks.

"My, my," the man says cheerfully. "A banshee. How delightful. And appropriate too, given where we are."

Scott steps in front her, shielding her from the strange man who is looking at them with a particularly wolfish expression.

"Who are you?" Scott asks warily.

"Me? Oh, I'm nobody. Just passing through. Although I believe you have a word for people like me."

"Omega," Lydia breathes.

The man grins cheekily. "And she's smart, too. Lovely."

"You're not allowed to be here," Scott says in a clear voice. "You're supposed to ask permission."

"Must we bother with niceties?" the man says dolefully. "So tedious."

"If you know who she is than you know who I am." Scott says. "And you're in my territory."

"A true alpha and a banshee. You two make quite the pair."

"What do you want?" Scott growls.

"I've heard about her," the omega says. "Though I had no idea she was so pretty. I have to say, I'm quite intrigued."

"She's mine," Scott says, flexing his hand.

The man looks over Scott to Lydia. "Is this true?"

Lydia glances at Scott. He's never done this before, claimed her out loud. He stands tall and proud, a calm look on his face like this doesn't phase him at all. She sees him the way Ali must have - strong, noble. Her alpha.

Pride bursts in her chest. "That's right," Lydia says firmly, slipping her hand in Scott's. "I'm his."

"Pity," the man says. "I'm sure a lady of your nature could fetch quite a lot. Given one knows the right people, so on and so forth, you get the idea."

Scott's mouth twitches. "She's not for sale."

The man smiles, full of teeth. "I'm sure that could be negotiated."

"Afraid not," Scott says cheerfully, his hand squeezing Lydia's tightly. "I doubt you could afford her, anyway."

Scott smiles at Lydia gently, and suddenly the whole situation seems ridiculously funny. They've taken down hunters, the Oni, chaos spirits, Beserkers, and one measly omega thinks he can scare them? _Please_.

"That's right," Lydia says, playing along. "I'm worth a lot."

"Really?" The omega looks amused. "How much, do you suppose?"

"Oh, I don't know." Lydia cocks her head and looks at Scott. "Twenty million?"

"At least," Scott adds. "And I'm not looking to make a deal, so I guess there's nothing here for you."

"Well, I wouldn't say _that_," the omega says, and disappears as suddenly as he showed up.

"Are you okay?" Scott asks Lydia, still holding her hand.

"Who the _hell _was that?"

"I don't know," Scott says grimly. "Come on. We're calling a pack meeting." 


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Because you've all been so patient...Stydia smut ahead! Enjoy :)  
**

"I don't like it," Derek says, pacing back and forth across his apartment.

"What did he want?" Stiles asks.

"Nothing," Lydia says quickly, ignoring the look that Scott shoots her.

"Nothing?" Derek raises an eyebrow.

"He'd heard some things," Scott says, diplomatic as ever. "Said he was curious and that he was just passing through."

Stiles frowns. "Heard some things about what?"

Lydia rolls her eyes. "Its Beacon Hills, what do you think?"

Derek turns to Scott. "Do you think he's a threat?"

"I don't know," Scott hedges. He glances at Lydia, who pointedly looks away. She's _so_ not in the mood for another should we or should we not commit murder debate.

"Maybe," Scott says. "It's possible."

"It's just as possible that he's already gone," 'Lydia points out. "He could have hurt us but he didn't."

"He could have _tried_," Scott says. "We don't know that he won't."

"So what do we do?" Kira asks.

Derek sighs. "I'll ask around. See if anyone's heard anything."

"In the meantime everyone be careful, alright?" Scott tells them.

Stiles catches her at the doorway, those long fingers catching her at the waist. "Give you a ride home?"

Lydia smiles, slow and sly. "I could come over."

Stiles grins and Lydia feels warm all over.

"We could watch a movie," Stiles says, fingering the hem of her top.

She bats her lashes. "We could _pretend_ to watch a movie."

"Jesus Christ, stop flirting and get out of my apartment!" Derek yells, a revolted look on his face.

"Sourwolf," Stiles mutters, and Lydia laughs when Derek growls.

xxx

"You sure you're okay?" Stiles says into her skin, peppering kisses across the tops of her breasts.

"_Yes_," Lydia sighs, leaning back against Stiles' pillow and letting her hair fan out around her.

"Good," Stiles murmurs, pulling the lacy cup of her bra down and pulling her nipple into his mouth.

Lydia hisses, feeling the heat from his mouth go straight to her core.

Stiles switches breasts, nibbling and sucking until the nipple pebbles.

Lydia moans loudly. They've been at this for half an hour, making out on top of his bed. She's so turned on, his mouth stoking a raging fire in her that builds and builds until he has her panting. He hasn't even _touched_ her yet.

She should have known Stiles would be a genius at making out. The guy's oral fixation is off the charts.

"So beautiful," Stiles mutters into her cleavage, reaching around with one hand to unhook her bra.

"Show off," Lydia teases, shrugging the straps off her shoulders.

Stiles grins wolfishly at her. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he says, licking a hot stripe under one breast.

"Stiles, focus," Lydia says, and takes his free hand and places it where she wants it.

"Oh," he says, with an adorable look of surprise, like he can't believe his hand is between her legs. "Do you want...I mean, can I touch you? Is that okay?"

Lydia lifts her hips and Stiles gets the idea; he rolls down her thong as she pulls her skirt up.

"Whoa," Stiles says, crouched between her legs. "This is fucking _awesome_."

"You can touch me," she reminds him, anticipation curling hot in her belly.

He comes down on one elbow at her side, fingers trailing down her thighs, making her muscles jump. He spreads her apart with his fingers, cursing.

"How the hell are you so soft?" he asks, brushing her carefully, getting the feel of her, before sliding his index finger up to find her clit.

Lydia gasps as he tweaks it, rubbing it just lightly enough to make her want more. She pushes her hips up and Stiles chuckles, the bastard.

"Harder?" he guesses, and she nods breathlessly. Stiles gives her more pressure and she groans, her center throbbing.

"Good," she grits out, because positive reinforcement is important.

Stiles nods, like he's filing this away for later, and replaces his finger with his thumb.

"Stiles?" she questions, and moans when she feels a finger slip inside her.

"Another," she demands, because she already knows it won't be enough, and Stiles dutifully inserts another finger.

"_Ohhh_," she moans again, pressure building until it's almost unbearable. She rocks against his hand, crying out when his thumb rolls over her clit. Her hips work frantically, the need to come almost blinding.

"Please," she hears herself begging. "Stiles, please."

"Please, what?" Stiles says raggedly, twisting his fingers inside her.

"Fuck," Lydia whimpers, feeling her body tighten. "I need to come. Please make me come."

"So polite." Stiles kisses her hard on the mouth and curls his fingers.

"_Ahhh_!" Lydia grips the bedspread and _shatters_, crying out and arching back on the bed.

He works her down with his fingers, telling her how beautiful she is, how good she feels.

"That was...wow," Stiles says, wiping his hand on the bedspread.

"Yeah," Lydia sighs happily. "Wow."

xxx

"So are you going to tell me what that guy wanted?" Stiles asks later, when she's sitting at his kitchen table studying for their Econ test while Stiles _cooks his father dinner _to take to the station.

The guy can finger her like a pro _and_ he can cook. He might be the perfect man. Which is ridiculous, because he's Stiles. Goofy, lanky, Stiles.

Stiles made her come like a fountain and then asked if she wanted to study for Econ together, like it was no big deal.

"I love you," she blurts out.

Stiles grins and walks away from the stove to kiss her forehead. "I love you, too. But I still want to know what really happened."

Lydia sighs. "He was just trying to scare us. It was stupid."

"Lydia."

"Okay, well, he may have expressed interested in…making a purchase."

"Excuse me?"

"He'd heard about me. He knew what I was right away. Scott too. He mentioned that he knew people who would be interested in acquiring a banshee."

Stiles looks at her in horror. "He wanted to _buy_ you?"

"Scott told him I wasn't for sale," she says calmly.

"Jesus Christ, Lydia."

"Stiles. It's fine. I'm fine."

"That is not fine, Lyds. Someone trying to buy you is not _fine_."

"Stiles." She gets up from the table and hugs him, kissing the hollow of his throat. "Stop worrying, okay?"

Stiles sighs heavily, stroking her hair. She feels it then, that undeniable pull. _If you die I will go out of my freaking mind._

"Please don't worry," she says again. "I'm not going anywhere." 


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles doesn't pick her up for the next pack meeting.

At first Lydia assumes that he's just late, but as ten minutes go by, and then twenty, she starts to get a bad feeling.

When she calls him the phone rings and rings until it goes to voicemail.

She waits another twenty minutes until she caves, and dials Scott.

"Hey where are you guys? We're all waiting for you."

"Stiles didn't pick me up."

A short pause. "Did you call him?"

"I'm actually offended that you would ask me that."

"Are you at home?"

"Yes."

"Stay there. I'm coming to get you."

"Okay."

"And Lydia?"

"Yes?"

Scott sounds grim. "Lock your doors."

xxx

They decide to stop by the Stilinksi house so Scott can pick up a trail. What they are not expecting is to find Stiles' blue jeep parked right outside his house, with him in it.

"Scott?" Lydia questions, because Stiles is staring straight ahead looking absolutely frozen.

Scott slips his hand in hers. "Stay behind me."

"_Scott._"

"I can smell him," Scott growls. "The omega. He was here."

"_What_?"

Scott leads her to the driver's side of the car and taps on the window. "Stiles?"

He doesn't respond. It's like he can't even hear them.

Scott pulls on the door but it's locked.

"Back up," he tells Lydia, and then pulls, and the door opens with a great wrenching sound.

The noise seems to shake Stiles out of his reverie and he turns to look at them.

"Hey Scott," he says faintly. "Lydia."

"Hey buddy," Scott says, so gentle. "You okay?"

Stiles blinks slowly, his eyes hazy. "I met your friend."

"Stiles, what did he do to you?" Lydia demands, because this boy, this barely conscious boy, is not Stiles. His fingers aren't even moving, just sitting heavily in his lap.

Stiles shakes his head slowly. "Don't...wanna talk about it."

"Stiles, what happened?" Scott asks. "You have to tell us what happened."

Stiles takes a great shuddering breath and shuts his eyes tightly. "He said...if he couldn't get a banshee...a chaos spirit would be...acceptable."

"What?" Lydia exclaims.

"Stiles, it's gone. That's not happening," Scott reminds him.

Stiles shakes his head. "You don't know that…you don't know." He gasps, his breathing getting faster and faster.

"Scott," Lydia hisses.

"Come on, let's stand up, okay?" Scott pulls Stiles out of the car, props him up against him.

"Scotty...I can't...I can't do it again." Stiles pitches forward, hands braced on his thighs.

"Stiles, it's gone, remember? It's gone and it's not coming back," Scott says firmly.

"He said he could bring it back," Stiles says. His knees buckle, and Scott catches him before he hits the ground.

"Stiles!" Lydia stands in front of him, Scott holding him up from behind. "He was lying. He was messing with you."

"You don't know that," Stiles says, and then he starts to cry.

Lydia throws herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Yes, I do. I do know that. It's gone, Stiles. I promise you, it's gone."

He shakes his head, his body heaving with sobs. "I don't want to hurt anyone, I never wanted to, oh god, _Lydia_, make it stop, make it stop-"

She kisses him. He crumples, bending over and he cries into her mouth. She licks tears off his lips, one hand stroking his hair.

"It's okay," she whispers. "Stiles, it's okay now."

"It's not okay," he cries, and she doesn't argue, because she understands what he means.

Scott rubs his back while Stiles cries into the crook of her neck, and eventually Scott slips his hand in hers and squeezes.

"Us three against the world, right?" Scott says, and Lydia laughs shakily.

"I love you guys," Stiles murmurs into her throat.

Lydia's heart cramps in her chest. "We love you, too."

xxx

Scott leaves his motorcycle and drives them in Stiles' Jeep. Lydia sits in the back with him. Stiles is jumpy, his eyes darting all over the place.

"Hey," she whispers. "Okay?"

He nods absentmindedly, fingers drumming staccato on the window.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm fine, Lydia."

Stiles glances towards the back of Scott's head pointedly.

Oh right. Freaking werewolf hearing.

She nods, and slips her fingers into his and he grips her tight.

xxx

Unsurprisingly, Derek votes to kill the omega.

Kira tries to weasel out of voting by saying that since she wasn't threatened it wasn't really up to her, and that she'd support what everyone else wanted to do.

Liam just looks at Scott and goes, "Dude, is this a regular thing? You guys just sit around and plot murders?"

"Sometimes," Scott bites out.

He's conflicted; he doesn't want to commit murder but the omega is a threat, to him and his pack, and as the alpha he has to do something about it.

Something in Lydia's heart breaks for Scott. It's not fair, that someone so good be put in this kind of position.

"You have to kill him." Malia walks into the room, head held high. "He's threatened two members of your pack. Three, including you."

"Well, look who's back," Lydia murmurs, glaring at Stiles when he elbows her.

Derek cups Scott's shoulder with a surprising tenderness. "You know she's right."

Scott shifts under his hand. "I don't want to do this."

"Scott," Lydia whispers, and he turns to look at her. "It's okay."

He shuts his eyes for a second, like they hurt, before looking at Stiles. "What do you think?"

Stiles' hand clenches on Lydia's thigh. "I don't think...we can let someone walk around threatening us. You. Not that I'm advocating murder, like, _in general_, but he did start it."

"So everyone's in favor, then," Scott says dully. "We get rid of him."

"You have a responsibility," Derek reminds him. "The pack comes first."

"I know," Scott sighs.

"Scott," Kira says gently.

"It's okay," Scott says. He walks over to Kira and hugs her quickly. "My motorcycle's at Stiles'. Can you catch a ride with Malia?"

Kira, sweet understanding Kira just nods and kisses his cheek.

"Come on," Malia says. "I have to do homework, I'm really behind."

Lydia snorts quietly, ignoring the derisive look Malia shoots her on the way out the door.

"Come on," Scott says tiredly, holding his hand out to Stiles, who pulls Lydia up with him. "Let's go home." 


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: This is the final chapter! Hope you guys enjoyed it :) **

**I don't own Teen Wolf or its characters.**

When Scott drives them back to Stile's house Lydia doesn't even ask Stiles if she can come inside, she just follows him into the house.

All the lights are off and she shivers as she follows him up the stairs.

"Is your dad home?" she asks, when Stiles leads them straight to his room.

"Night shift," Stiles mumbles.

"Stiles," she whispers.

"Don't, Lydia."

She sits next to him on the bed, finds his hand and squeezes. "_Stiles_."

He lets out a breathy little groan and then he's kissing her, all lips and teeth and repressed panic. It's sloppy, all emotion and no skill but it's perfect and she kisses back, anchoring her hands on his waist.

"Is this what you need?" Lydia murmurs.

Stiles mumbles something into her mouth that she takes as a yes.

"Well then," she says, and pulls off her top.

Stiles brings her closer until she's practically in his lap, kissing her with a fervor, until she starts to heat up, until she starts needing more. He seems to be right there with her because he yanks his shirt over his head and pulls her into his lap.

Lydia can feel him hard through his jeans and she grinds down on him, the rough denim rubbing through the thin fabric of her panties in a way that makes her moan. She unbuckles his jeans quickly and Stiles lifts his hips, letting her drag them down along with his boxers.

She wraps one hand around him, long and hard inside her fist, and Stiles groans, "_Lydia._"

She yanks her thong to the side and finds his hand, moves it to cup her between her legs. She works him with her hand, rocking her hips against his fingers. His thumb finds her clit and she moans, her hand tightening around him.

"Condom," Stiles grits out. "Nightstand."

She climbs off him to pull a foil packet out of the box in his nightstand drawer, shimmying out of her skirt and panties before returning to his lap.

Lydia straddles him, rolling on the condom with a flourish.

"Wait," Stiles groans, gathering her wrists in his hand.

"What?" she whispers, reaching down to line them up.

"I love you," he says hoarsely.

She rises up and sinks down onto him. "Love you too."

She rocks her hips slowly, relishing the heat that spreads through her body.

"_Oh_," she moans, loving the feel of him, full and hard inside her.

"Shit," Stiles groans. "You feel like...Jesus Christ, Lydia."

"I feel like Jesus?" she pants. "Really."

"Course not." His hands find her hips and he grips tightly. "You're...you're wet, and hot, and...oh fuck Lyds."

He reaches down to stroke her clit and she gasps, clenching around him. His hips snap up, hitting her with long hard strokes and she starts to moan, hands on his shoulders as she rides him.

"_Stiles_," she starts to gasp. "_Stiles_."

"I know," he says, so weirdly reassuring, like he knows she's about to come and when she does it might break her wide open.

"Hold me," she cries, and his hands slide up her back to wrap tightly around her.

Lydia tightens her grip on his shoulders, trying to contain the storm inside her, but it's too strong, she's being swept away. It builds and builds until she's shaking, her nails digging into his skin.

"Stiles," she begs, "_oh god_, please, please, Stiles."

He pounds into her, swearing, and she flies apart with a scream, her head falling on his chest, and beneath her Stiles grunts and shudders.

For a while they stay like that, her head on his chest and his arms warm around her, until eventually he pulls out and leads her to the bathroom to clean up.

They fall asleep naked in his bed, limbs tangled together.

xxx

She wakes in the middle of the night to Stiles sitting up in bed, gasping for air.

"Stiles," she whispers, "what's wrong?"

He shakes his head frantically. "I woke up and I saw you, and I thought I was dreaming."

"Nope," she whispers, pulling herself up. "Not a dream."

"Are you sure?" he asks shakily, gesturing to her. " 'Cus this definitely seems like something I'd dream up."

"Stiles," she says firmly. "This is real. I'm real."

Stiles swallows hard. "Are you sure?"

"_Yes_."

He shudders, rubbing his eyes. "What if it's not? What if it's back, and he's just messing with me? What if...what if..."

"Shh, Stiles, stop." She takes his hands and holds them close to her chest. "I'm gonna prove it, okay?"

"How?" he asks weakly.

She brings the tip of his right thump to her lips and stamps a kiss on it. "One," she whispers.

Lydia moves to his index finger, kisses it and whispers, "Two."

She kisses every finger and when she gets to ten he collapses back on the bed, a hand over his face.

"Stiles, look at me," she says softly, pulling his hand away from his face. "This is real. _We're_ real."

"I love you, Lydia," he whispers brokenly.

"Shh." She runs her fingers through his hair. "I love you too."

xxx

They're walking to the front doors of the school together the next morning when Lydia feels it, something huge and sick swelling under her ribs.

_No. Not again_.

"Stiles," she whispers, and when he doesn't hear her she tugs on his arm.

"Stiles!"

"Geez, yes, what's up?"

She feels frozen, like if she moves it might pour right out of her. "I think I'm going to scream."

"_What_?"

"I have to scream," she says hysterically.

"Okay, okay, it's okay." Stiles grabs her by the wrist and hustles her back to the jeep, practically throwing her into the passenger seat and hurrying around to get into the car.

Stiles puts the keys in the ignition so he can turn the radio on, dialing the volume up to ear shattering.

"Okay," he says. "Go for it."

"Oh, god," Lydia moans, pitching foreword to brace her hands on his shoulders.

"It's okay," he says softly. "Let it out."

That seems to do the trick, because suddenly her mouth is opening as the scream rips from her throat and she collapses onto Stile's chest.

He holds her, stroking her hair back from her face as she pants, trying to catch her breath. They always wear her out like this. The two of them stay there for a long time, until she's no longer shaking and she's sure it's over.

"You okay?" he whispers.

She clutches him, nodding. "Yeah."

"You sure?"

She nuzzles his throat, kissing his skin. "I have you. I'm okay."

xxx

She runs into Malia in the woods.

She's in the woods. And for whatever reason, Malia is too.

Why is she here? How is she here? She's supposed to be at school...

"Hey, Lydia!" Malia says cheerfully.

There's a spray of blood covering half of her face.

Lydia stares.

"I was wondering when you would show up," Malia says. "That was some scream."

Malia sniffs at the air. "I gotta go."

Lydia blinks in confusion.

Malia gives her a feral grin. "If you see Scott, tell him I said you're welcome."

Lydia blinks again and Malia blurs away. She stumbles back right into Derek Hale.

"Lydia, thank god," he sighs, catching her by the shoulders. "We've been looking for you everywhere."

She starts walking without really thinking about it, one foot moving automatically in front of the other.

"Lydia, where are you going?" Derek yells, catching up to her.

"I have to walk," she murmurs.

Derek wrinkles her nose. "Was Malia here?"

"I think she killed the omega," Lydia says faintly.

"What?"

"For Scott."

"Lydia, where are you going?"

"Here." She stops abruptly and points above her head.

They both look up and there is the omega, hanging from a tree, a steady pour of blood dripping down the leaves.

"Holy shit," Derek whispers. "I have to call Scott."

Lydia passes out.

xxx

She wakes up in the back of Stiles' jeep.

"Stiles!" she gasps, and finds herself launching right into his arms.

"Easy there," he says, pulling her across the seat into his lap.

"How did I get here?" she asks faintly, clutching the fabric of his flannel shirt.

"Derek carried you."

"No, I mean, _how did I get here_?"

"Oh, that. Well, you disappeared after second period. I was out looking for you with Scott when Derek called."

"Stiles," Lydia says, "I saw Malia."

"Yeah." Stiles nods. "She killed the omega."

"Whoa," she whispers.

"I know. Scott's currently giving her the mother of all lectures while Derek buries the body."

Lydia looks up at him. "So what do we do now?"

Stiles grins, his eyes sparkling with life. "It's over. Now we go home." 

The End.


End file.
